


tides, moons (so deep i thought i'd drown)

by salvage



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Genocidal Fascist Erotically Chokes Unstable Murderer; Both Enjoy It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvage/pseuds/salvage
Summary: “Were youchoking yourself?” Hux exclaimed without thinking, ears ringing, something happening in his chest like a vise tightening or a target exploding as a plasma bolt hits it, the soft plastic material expanding with sudden heat and fracturing into uncountable tiny pieces.“Why do you care,” Ren wheezed. He still appeared to be trying to make himself as small as possible.Anything Ren can do, Hux can do better. Including choking Ren.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Advance praise for _Tides, Moons_ : "I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD THIS IS YOUR CROWNING ACHIEVEMENT AND ALSO THE MOST SINFUL THING I'VE EVER READ" —Suzelle
> 
> The initial form of the original 2,400 or so words of this fic was a series of text messages sent over the course of three hours on a weekday morning to the inspiring and ever patient Suzelle. In my defense, she started it by texting me about force choking at 8 AM. The noble tradition of chatfic lives on. 
> 
> Please note that the choking practices performed in this story are extremely unsafe and should not in any way be tried at home. Be safe!

General Hux had received a transmission requiring, in the usual polite language of a request, his and Lord Ren’s attendance at a meeting with the Supreme Leader. A familiar chill of unease slipped down his spine but he drew himself up against it, shoulders back, chin up, and requested Lieutenant Hven to inform Ren of the message. 

“His comms system is… turned off, sir,” Hven replied, doing her level best to keep a wince off her face. 

Hux felt a muscle in his jaw spasm as he ground his teeth together. “Of course it is.” 

“Sir?” Hven asked. 

“I’ll fetch him myself,” Hux said, words clipped in a futile effort to keep the frustration out of his voice. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” 

The lieutenant saluted crisply and scurried off to her station on the bridge of the _Finalizer_. Hux glanced about for his first officer to cede authority, then descended into the depths of his ship to find Ren. He was the only person on the ship whose personal code could override Ren’s, but he also seemed to be the only person who wasn’t terrified of that absurd overgrown mynock. A squadron of troopers saluted as he swept past them and he nodded absently to them. He tried and failed not to feel resentment for being no more than message-boy to the unstable brat whom Snoke somehow deemed important enough to serve as Hux’s co-commander and keyed in his code at Ren’s locked door with a little more force than the sensitive control panel required.

As the door hissed open Hux saw that Ren’s quarters were dark, the main room silent and empty, the chairs and bare table faintly illuminated by the ambient light from the hallway. The door to the bedroom was closed and Hux allowed himself a single put-upon sigh before he went over to it and keyed in his code again.

He heard a gasp as soon as the bedroom door slid open but the way the bed was positioned, Hux had to step all the way into the room to see the bed. He did so almost absently, glancing about for Ren’s familiar hulking form, the dull shine of his battered helmet, his ragged cape, but he saw something entirely else. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He decided to immediately turn on his heel and walk out of the room but the muscles of his legs had locked up and he stood in place, stock still. 

He had always imagined Kylo Ren to be deformed, somehow; he would never admit it but in his moments of utmost frustration with his co-commander and Snoke’s favored protégé, he took vicious delight in imagining Ren’s hideous countenance beneath the mask: missing his nose or jaw, perhaps, and with a raw metal replacement, or marred by the grotesque topography of burns, as Lord Vader’s skin had always been rumored to be. Ripped through with wrinkles or puffy and hideously pale or discolored with disease. Perhaps covered in hair like a Wookie. 

But Ren’s face was nothing like that. He was young, possibly younger than Hux, and no paler, certainly, though now his skin was flushed pink, his chest blotchy with it, and scattered with melanin spots like constellations from a planet Hux had never been to. His hair was lush and dark and curled across the pillow that his head rested on, chin tipped up, spine arched, throat bared. His lips were slightly parted, full and pink, perhaps slightly crooked, though the overall effect was not an unpleasant one. Not with his eyes closed and his brows drawn together like that, as though in desperation. Then his eyes opened. 

And Ren—for it must be Ren, though Hux couldn’t quite believe it—looked up at him and his eyes widened in horror. 

Hux couldn’t stop looking at his flushed face, young, so young, and his plush lips and his wide dark eyes and, oh god, his broad, pale chest and his huge arms and the wide hand he had wrapped around his cock (which honestly Hux could barely look at for propriety, for decency, for the hours and days and months he would ostensibly have to work with Ren in the future, oh god, how would Hux be able to stand it, knowing what was hidden within those layers of clothing). In his desperate attempt not to look at the muscular legs Ren had propped on the bed or the hand that disappeared between them (oh god) Hux’s eyes tracked back up to Ren’s face, and Ren’s eyelashes were so long Hux could see them from where he still stood in the doorway, spiked with sweat. All of a sudden the spell was broken and Ren curled to the side, into himself, coughing brokenly, trying to catch his breath. And it hit Hux that this wasn’t just a surprised gasp. 

“Were you _choking yourself_?” Hux exclaimed without thinking, ears ringing, something happening in his chest like a vise tightening or a target exploding as a plasma bolt hits it, the soft plastic material expanding with sudden heat and fracturing into uncountable tiny pieces. 

“Why do you care,” Ren wheezed. He still appeared to be trying to make himself as small as possible.

Hux hightailed it out of the room.

The meeting with Supreme Leader Snoke was postponed until the next day cycle. Ren appeared beside Hux outside Meeting Room 13G-2 with all his layers intact, helmet included, and Hux caught at the edge of his vision the bright glint of the fluorescent hallway light on the silver detail around the eyes but quickly looked away. 

Hux spent the next week immersed in work and viciously denying that he thought at all about Ren’s soft young face; his wide, muscular chest; the curl of his long pale fingers around the flushed head of his cock. Ren spent the next week having hideous and expensive temper tantrums.

“If it would please my Lord to refrain from taking his anger out on the control panel,” Hux said, raising his voice to be heard over the crackle of Ren’s lightsaber and the sparking of the bare, melted electrical parts Ren had just exposed to the recycled air of the ship. 

“ _Please_ me?” Ren barked, the vocal modulator of his helmet crackling with static. “It would _please_ me if your stormtroopers were competent soldiers who didn’t mow down any possible leads to Skywalker!” He was panting, shoulders heaving, the saber clutched in both hands.

“I will not hear a word against my—”

Ren’s vocal modulator emitted a noise like a failing engine and he spun around to hack at the control panel yet again, the lightsaber sinking through the metal parts and emerging with great force, the tip catching again on the floor and melting through before Ren drew it up again. 

This was the part of the conversation where, in the past, Hux would have employed some cutting remark regarding Ren’s efficacy in locating Skywalker, or the discipline of his troops versus Ren’s own, but for the first time Hux couldn’t bring himself to. He instead remembered Ren’s blotchy face, his drawn-together eyebrows, his wide soft mouth. (At night sometimes he thought about his own hand around Ren’s long throat, but that was neither here nor there.)

“Are you quite finished?” Hux asked, allowing his anger to seep into his words. 

There was another growl from Ren’s helmet, though Hux couldn’t quite make out what noise it was supposed to be. Though he had grown proficient in intuiting Ren’s mood from his deep, modulated tone and the tilt of his helmeted head, he couldn’t interpret this. Perhaps Ren was finally going to try to kill Hux. Hux wondered whether he would succeed. He wondered why he had stopped carrying his active-duty weapon at his hip. He wondered whether he would even have been able to unholster it in time. Perhaps not. Ren was still silent.

“Do you keep doing this to frighten the stormtroopers?” Hux eventually asked. Ren did not respond, his shoulders gently rising and falling with his breath. “To annoy me, personally? Because you don’t understand that money has value and we’re always working at a deficit? Because you want me to, I don’t know, notice you?” Ren’s shoulders stopped moving. “Punish you?” 

Ren powered his lightsaber off. The room was suddenly so quiet, the destroyed panel sparking occasionally and the metal creaking softly as it cooled and congealed. Hux felt his heart beating wildly. He remembered Ren’s throat.

“Kneel,” he said, the command comfortable in his mouth. 

Ren did. He dropped to the floor and it must have been painful, the way his knees thudded against the steel. Hux approached him. The adrenaline surged through him but he kept his steps measured and even. He circled Ren, who knelt and looked straight ahead, and when he got behind him, safely out of his line of sight, he said, “We both know what I saw.” 

He heard the static of Ren’s mask when Ren took a sharp breath in. He put his hand out but he couldn’t quite touch him yet. He watched his hand ghost over Ren’s shoulder, mere inches away. He thought about Ren’s broad, muscular shoulder underneath the layers of fabric. He _wanted_. 

He circled back around. He wouldn’t have gotten this far, this young, if he didn’t know how to manipulate people, so he didn’t even look back at Ren as he walked past him toward the door to the room. “Come on.” 

Ren scrambled up. 

Hux walked to Ren’s own quarters. Ren followed a few paces behind him and Hux felt it in his chest and his fingertips and the soles of his feet: the power he had over Ren. He was giddy with it. 

Ren’s quarters looked just the same as they had and Hux led him right into the bedroom. 

“Take that damn thing off,” Hux said, and Kylo reached up with black-gloved hands and released the clasps of his helmet with a hiss. He lifted it off. His cheeks were flushed, his hair tousled, his eyes already dark and oh, god, he looked obscene just like this, his pink, slightly parted lips and his crooked nose and the spots on his face that Hux wanted to trace with the pad of his thumb, Ren’s brow and cheek and chin. 

“Is this why you cause me such trouble, hm? You just want attention, like a spoilt child?” Hux asked, heart leaping into his throat with his own impudence, thinking, _This man can kill me without touching me, without even moving_.

But Ren just looked away, the motion so gentle and submissive on this massive man who not five minutes ago destroyed 10,000 credits worth of equipment in ten seconds. Hux was unused to Ren, who was one of the few people in the organization taller than Hux, actively trying to make himself seem smaller. Hux thought, _Like I don’t already pay you more mind than I should_ , and he thought about the last time he was in this room, pale skin, the curve of Ren’s huge thigh, his fingers around his flushed cock, and Ren looked at him and Hux remembered, belatedly, that Ren could read minds. He wondered how deep Ren’s powers could go, wondered if Ren saw the night a few cycles ago when Hux jerked himself off thinking about his own hand on Ren’s throat, and maybe he could because Ren said: “Please.” 

Hux hadn’t realized how many layers Ren wore until Ren was standing in front of him painstakingly shedding them all while Hux hungrily watched him. When Ren removed his collar Hux stared at his throat, the long pale expanse of it, the shadowed jut of his adam’s apple, and Hux wanted to feel it beneath his palm. Ren looked at him with his dark eyes and Hux knew Ren could feel this. Maybe he too could see Hux’s hand against his neck and the indentations in his flesh that Hux’s fingers would make as he squeezed. Ren dropped the collar onto the pile of clothing he had already shed, the hooded cloak and the tunic and his gloves, and Hux nodded as Ren grasped the edges of his undershirt with his arms crossed over his body. Ren peeled the shirt off. Hux hadn’t quite been able to remember Ren’s chest in this much detail: the hard planes of muscles, the exact locations of the dark spots scattered across his torso, the fine down of hair on his chest and belly. His muscles shifted as he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. His shoulders and arms were huge, more powerful than they needed to be considering that he could throw a person across a room with just his mind; Hux remembered with a jolt that he was giving all that power to Hux and he felt warm all over, warm and alive with it. 

Ren sat at the edge of the bed to remove his boots and Hux watched his bowed head, the soft loose curls of his hair, his broad pale shoulders, the indented line of his spine. His boots toppled to the floor and he stood again, barefoot. His feet were wide, his ankles slim and bony. He removed his pants without hesitation, then his undergarments, and he stood beside the pile of clothing and cocked his head to the side a little, a gesture so like the inquisitive head tilt Hux had seen in the hooded, helmeted creature Ren had been it was a little jarring.

“Lie down,” Hux said, and Ren did, legs slightly splayed on the sheets, half-propped on his elbows, the muscles of his chest and stomach standing in relief as he tensed them to look at Hux. He was unabashedly naked, cock already half-hard against the crease of his thigh.

Hux was still fully dressed. He removed his overcoat, draping it carefully over a chair in the corner of the bedroom, but he kept on his uniform jacket and, after a moment’s thought, his leather gloves. When he couldn’t stand just watching anymore he went over to the bed and Ren’s huge body strained up toward him like a tide being pulled toward a moon, almost unimaginable in scale but inexorable. 

Hux felt like he was watching his body from the outside as he knelt on the bed and swung his leg over Ren’s slim waist. Ren’s chest was heaving, he was already sweating; Hux in all his layers felt warm, too, his inner thighs where they bracketed Ren’s waist picking up the almost intolerable heat of Ren’s body. This was the first time he had ever touched Ren, the first time ever, and he was so aware of it as he brought his gloved hand to Ren’s chest and felt its warmth radiate through the glove. Ren was trembling.

Hux touched the slope of his pectoral muscles and the straight line of one collarbone and the hollow at the base of his throat. At last he did it: he let his hand curl around the base of Ren’s throat and it felt like it belonged there. It felt so natural Hux couldn’t believe he had never done this before. Ren was still trembling, maybe with the effort of keeping still, maybe from something else. Hux felt like his heartbeat was shaking his whole body. He squeezed Ren’s throat experimentally. Ren’s head tilted back. Ren’s eyes had closed and his mouth was open, lips plush, the inside of his mouth dark and secret where Hux couldn’t see it, and he imagined Ren’s teeth, his tongue. He pressed his weight down onto his hand on Ren’s throat and Ren’s breathing was labored now. 

Ren’s chest shuddered as he gasped, his mouth opening wider, a flush spreading over his face. The edge of Hux’s hand pressed into Ren’s windpipe and Ren’s breath abruptly stopped, his eyes widening, mouth slack. Hux released the pressure and Ren choked a desperate breath in, chest heaving. Ren’s face was unreadable, eyes closed now, a red mark from Hux’s hand forming around his throat. Hux let him breathe. 

There was a hushed noise and Hux glanced down to see that Ren had fisted his hands in the sheets at his sides. Hux wanted them on his body suddenly and though he viciously suppressed the thought Ren’s hands moved to Hux’s legs, sliding over the outsides of his calves, over his knees. They were so broad as they stroked over the fabric of Hux’s trousers and wrapped around his thighs. Hux could feel the warmth of his palms. He could feel the steely curve of Ren’s waist between his spread legs. 

Ren arched up toward Hux and Hux leaned forward, replacing his gloved hand at Ren’s throat. He put pressure on it as he had before, just a little at first, watching Ren’s mouth open as he breathed little gasping sips of air. He leaned more heavily, then, putting more pressure on his palm, and Ren wheezed and his neck and face started to turn blotchy pink, then red. Hux could feel Ren’s erection pressing against his own ass through his uniform trousers. He leaned forward as long as he dared and when he released the pressure Ren whined, a keening moan that jolted Hux into reality. He was wholly here, suddenly self-conscious, kneeling over Kylo Ren with his hand over Ren’s long throat, his own cock hard. Hux suddenly wanted to bolt, or to wrap both of his hands around Ren’s throat until Ren stopped breathing completely, or to fuck him or get fucked by him, to feel Ren’s huge arms dwarfing him as they rocked into each other, skin bare, sweat-slick. 

“Please,” Ren choked, and he arched his spine a little, pressed his hips up until he was grinding against Hux’s ass and without even thinking Hux rocked down against him and Ren moaned again, wanton, more uninhibited than Hux could have ever imagined, as though as soon as he shed his physical layers he was immediately bare and open for Hux, wanting everything Hux could give him, gasping for it without shame. Hux was almost jealous. 

Ren slid his hands up Hux’s hips to his waist and they wrapped around his sides, so big, so fucking big, and Hux leaned down, his gloved hand still loose against Ren’s throat, fingers tightening just a little, and he bit Ren’s plush lower lip and Ren licked into his mouth. The kiss was messy and painful and Hux dug his fingertips into the tendons of Ren’s neck and he could feel Ren’s whole body arch up into him, warm and willing. Ren’s adam’s apple pressed against the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger; he felt it work as Ren tried and failed to swallow. Ren’s hair was splayed over his pillow, curling soft and dark, and Hux wanted to touch it, he wanted to fist his hand in it and pull, he wanted to grab Ren’s wrists in his gloved hands and twist them together, he wanted Ren pained and keening for him. Hux sprawled his hand up Ren’s throat, fingers against the line of his jaw, and he pushed Ren’s head back and Ren breathed out a little sound, a soft desperate moan. Hux latched his mouth to Ren’s warm sweat-tasting skin, the thin skin over his throat and collarbone and the thick curve of his shoulder. He bit and Ren gasped and thrashed and when he pressed down with his hand on Ren’s throat and tugged his skin between his teeth Ren shuddered and arched. Hux was so thirsty for each desperate keening noise he was able to draw from Ren with his hands and mouth. 

Hux leaned the side of his hand into Ren’s windpipe and Ren’s breath stopped for an agonizing second, his throat working under Hux’s palm, tears welling in his eyes. Hux let up for long enough for Ren to take one single quick gasp of air and then pressed down again, watching Ren’s soft red lips quiver. Ren’s whole face was flushed, beaded with sweat; a tear slid from the corner of one eye into his hairline. Ren’s chest shuddered between Hux’s knees and his hands grasped painfully at Hux’s waist, fingers digging in. Hux let go. Ren came.

 _Oh my god_ , Hux thought numbly, looking down at Ren’s wrecked face, wet with tears. _I did this_. 

Ren’s chest heaved and his mouth was open and red and wet. There was a moment of quiet while Hux’s erection pressed against his trousers and Ren’s hands were hot at his waist and then all of a sudden Ren’s huge body surged up and he turned them around, pressing Hux down on the bed and looming over him, flushed and spotted with bruises. Ren moved down Hux’s body with a grace Hux had never seen from him before and he unbuttoned Hux’s trousers. He tugged them down a little and immediately pressed his mouth to the crease of Hux’s leg and mouthed at the base of Hux’s cock. Hux shuddered. Ren’s lips were plush and damp and it was almost excruciating; he felt oversensitized already as Ren exhaled a warm breath over the head of his cock. Ren’s tongue was agonizingly soft. He licked up the underside, dragging his tongue and lips over Hux’s cock, and Hux clawed his fingers into the sheets and tensed his whole body, willing himself not to thrust up into Ren’s mouth. Ren swallowed him down. His mouth was hot and wet and he was so enthusiastic, so desperate for Hux, saliva slicking Hux’s cock, Ren’s throat closing and then opening for Hux. Hux barely lasted. Ren worked him through it tenderly, swallowing and swallowing.

Ren collapsed mostly on top of Hux, his head against Hux’s shoulder, and Hux absently curled an arm around his slim waist. They breathed together. Ren was heavy and warm and damp with sweat but Hux didn’t mind. Ren turned his face toward Hux and pressed kisses against his bony shoulder; Hux let him, still too post-orgasmic to argue. 

Ren hummed into Hux’s skin. When he spoke, his voice was soft and a little hoarse. “Next time,” he breathed, “you can choke me harder.” 

“All right,” Hux responded. He turned his face into the soft damp mass of Ren’s hair. “All right.”


End file.
